


By Any Other Name

by Kaydon



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Family Feels, Gen, Parental Riza Hawkeye, Parental Roy Mustang, Protective Roy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-15 23:03:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21026195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaydon/pseuds/Kaydon
Summary: When Edward Elric-Mustang woke up on the morning of the first day of school he had been firmly convinced that the worst thing about his senior year of high school would be his new father looking over his shoulder at every opportunity. By the time the day was over, he wished he had been correct. There is power in a name, now if only he could figure out exactly what that power was.This story is written as part of the world of "and then it wasn't" by GentleTouchGinger, in which Roy and Riza adopt the Elric brothers.





	By Any Other Name

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [and then it wasn't](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14630313) by [GentleTouchGinger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GentleTouchGinger/pseuds/GentleTouchGinger). 

> A big thank you to GentleTouchGinger for her story and for letting us play in her world.

When Edward Elric-Mustang woke up on the morning of the first day of school he had been firmly convinced that the worst thing about his senior year of high school would be his new father looking over his shoulder at every opportunity. Roy Mustang was determined to see Ed’s grades be better this year than ever before and believed that, with a little bit of hard work, Ed would get to go to college and study chemistry as he dreamed of. While many of his classmates could think of few things worse than a parent micromanaging their schoolwork, dealing with Roy’s meddling and pushes to be better was an improvement over the first day of his junior year. On that day he had woken up cold and gone to school hungry in a dirty t-shirt, counting down the 700 plus days until he turned eighteen and could petition for custody of his brother. College and homework had been the last thing on his mind.

Ed stumbled around the room in the dark, his missing arm and leg made him take longer to get ready than Alphonse, who was still snoozing away on the top bunk. Finally tugging a clean shirt perfectly into place, Ed realized he could smell bacon coming from the kitchen. He flicked on the lights and double checked that all his summer assignments were tucked into his backpack. “Get up lazy!” He peered over the guardrail, standing on his toes to see over it. Alphonse didn’t appear to have moved. Ed tossed his pillow up at him. “Get up Al, pretty sure Mom make breakfast and it smells good. If you don’t get up soon I’ll eat all of yours too.”

Al muttered something unintelligible back as Ed left the room laughing.

As he sat at the table his mother, Riza Hawkeye-Mustang, set a plate down in front of him. Roy had his nose buried a notebook, somewhat unusual for him as he typically had a rule of no work at the table; a rule which he extended to the rest of the family, Ed recalled once having an English book stashed on top of the fridge and having to explain to the teacher why he hadn’t brought the book to class after he tried to finish his reading over breakfast. “Something wrong, Dad?”

Roy looked up from his notes. “I can’t be figure out what possessed me to agree to teach a _physics_ class.” There was a note of disgust in his voice.

“It’s because you love me, isn’t it?” Al strolled up to the table, dressed and looking bright-eyed despite having been dead asleep not five minutes prior. It was a skill he and Riza shared, but Ed and Roy did not. “Down Hayate.” The dog had come running up to the table, eager for scraps. Of all four of them, Al gave into his pleading look most easily. Riza and Roy were both immune, and Ed could still remember what it felt like to be truly hungry and tended to eat every bite he was offered.

“Of course he does Al.” Riza set the a plate in front of him. Roy didn’t answer Al’s declaration of affection, but he also didn’t dispute it.

Alphonse had finished last year at the school by his old foster parent’s house. It had been only fifteen minutes out of the way of Riza’s commute to work and Al’s social worker thought it was easier to let him finish out the year among his friends then try to change schools in the middle. With the new year starting Al would be attending Roy’s school along with Ed. The school administration, which had heavily frowned upon Ed continuing in Roy’s class once the man had become his guardian, put their foot firmly down and squashed the idea of Al taking a class from Roy now that he was his son. But Al, who was just as interested in chemistry as his brother and father, had been so disappointed in the prospect of taking environmental science instead that Roy had gone to the one other teacher at the school who was at all qualified to teach chemistry and asked to swap a class. Roy would tutor Al on the side so the boy could still take the AP test at the end of the year, but he was also now stuck teaching physics – which he was capable of but would not enjoy.

Riza had little problem with telling the boys she loved them, but Roy often struggled to get the words out. So when Roy had told Alphonse that he would be able to take chemistry after all (and from the same teacher Ed would be taking physics from) Al had been giddy. Roy felt guilty around Alphonse for most of the summer – he knew that Al knew it had been Edward who Roy had been unable to leave behind and pulled from the system. Al’s placement and subsequent adoption were more because he was Ed’s brother than anything else. To say otherwise would have been an obvious lie, though Roy and Riza had come to love both of their children deeply over the moths they had been together. That Roy not only agreed to, but arranged to, teach a class he jokingly referred to as torture just for Al’s sake had done wonders for Al’s faith in their relationship.

“Time for me to head out.” Riza gave each boy a pat on the head and Roy a kiss on the cheek, then headed to the door. 

Roy and the boys hurried to finish eating. Roy ran water over the plates, put them in the dishwasher, stuffed his papers into his bag as Ed and Al packed a trio of lunches, and they loaded into the car and headed off to school together.

* * *

The bell ending morning homeroom rang and Ed frowned at the slip of paper in his hand. His locker assignment: _Elric, Edward. 1118. 27-31-04. _It really shouldn’t have bothered him except, as a new student, Al had attended an orientation day the week prior and already had his locker assignment and schedule – and the name on the top of his locker slip had been _Mustang, Alphonse Elric_.

Neither was technically correct. When Roy and Riza had announced at Disneyland that they would be adopting Ed and Al (Ed had tried hard to look surprised – Roy had let the secret slip to him weeks before – but they were fairly certain Riza knew that he knew. Thankfully she played along and Al had been blissfully unaware that he was the only one surprised) both boys were elated. Ed had a great burden removed from him; for the first time since the death of their mother the job of protecting Al hadn’t fallen on his shoulders alone. It had been awkward at first for Ed, transitioning to calling them Mom and Dad instead of Riza and Roy, though not nearly as awkward as Ed had found the change from Mustang to Roy several months earlier.

Both Elric brothers had been so relieved to be together and, for Ed, to be safe that they tried hard not to cause much trouble. Once they were comfortable enough in the home to test boundaries, it became apparent that Roy and Riza were not easily perturbed. Ed had once gone to visit his former foster sister Lan Fan and they had spent all night talking. They talked until they laughed, laughed until they cried, and they cried until they started to reconcile what they had been through together. He came home three hours past midnight to Roy sitting on the front porch, “Oh you are alive. I don’t know if I should be glad I don’t have to plan a funeral or upset I don’t get the life insurance payout.” Ed had hesitated before he realized Roy was both sleep deprived and joking; then he ended up fervently promising not to miss curfew again. He found out later that Lan Fan’s new foster mother was a friend of Riza’s and that Roy had known all along where he was.

Other examples included Alphonse once downing an entire tub of ice cream in a day (“I signed you up for a 5k Saturday to run off all those calories.”) and Ed swiping $20 without asking for a new pair of ear buds (“Mrs. Jackson on the corner offered you $40 to mow her lawn every week this summer. I let her know you were happy to do it for free. Let me borrow the headphones on my morning walk and we can call it even.”).

The only real tension so far had been between Ed and Al. As the court date to finalize their adoption had approached the topic of their names came up over dinner. Roy had laughed when he found out neither boy had a legal middle name. Ed had laughed back at him over his middle name – Leopold – until Roy had told him that it was tradition for the oldest son in his family to take his father’s given name as his middle name. Both of Roy’s parents had died when Roy was young, and he very seldom spoke of them.

At first, Ed had been vehemently against changing his last name. Elric had been their mother’s surname, not their father’s, and at the time changing his name had felt like betraying her memory. Al on the other hand wanted to take his new parents name, saying he would be proud to share it with such good people. Both brothers expected the other to feel the same. Ed got so worked up he stormed off in the middle of a plate of food, something he had never done under Roy’s roof before. This caused Al to start crying, still at the table. Riza had gone to talk to Ed, leaving Roy to comfort Al. It was also Riza who had suggested hyphenating their names. “That way,” she had said, “You can have a little of every parent. Elric for your mother, Mustang for Roy and a hyphen for me.” Pleased with her solution, both had gladly signed their names as _Elric-Mustang_ on the adoption papers a weeks after, and Ed gave no thought to the issue since.

Still uneasy about the mistake on his locker slip, and still unsure why exactly he was uneasy, Ed slipped into his English class and took the seat nearest the door.

The teacher cleared his throat. “Stand back up – you will sit where I tell you too.”

Ed hesitated. “I’m sorry Mr.,” he glanced towards the board. “Kimblee. I have to have this seat, it’s an accommodation see, one of my legs is prosthetic, and it’s hard to walk between the desks.”

Kimblee looked him up and down and Ed fought the urge to shiver under his cold eyes. “Be that as it may, I have received no such request and you will sit in alphabetical order.” He raised his voice and addressed the other students who had started to filter into the room. “Stand against the wall. When I call your name take the next open seat, left to right in each row. Anderson, Laura.” Several more students were called and then, “Elric, Edward.”

Again Ed hesitated before speaking up. “Actually sir, it’s Mustang – I just don’t think the office has changed it yet.”

Kimblee’s upper lip curled unpleasantly before he answered. “You’re a trouble-maker aren’t you Elric? There’s no Mustang in this or any of my classes, so sit down before I send you to the office for disturbing the class.”

Ed moved towards the next open desk; the shuffle of his hips required to shimmy down the aisle made his leg uncomfortable. Once the class was seated, Kimblee announced a quiz on their summer reading assignment. The questions were obscure, and while Ed was certain he passed he was also certain that he hadn’t done as well as Roy would have liked. _At least Al doesn’t have to take a class from this jerk_, Ed thought to himself, content with the knowledge that Al was taking English from Gracia Hughes, a friend of their parents. Kimblee repeated the last question – one of the few Ed was certain of the answer to. He looked over his quiz and then, in a moment of quiet defiance, he erased what he had written on the top of his paper and scribbled in a new name – _Edward Mustang_.

* * *

Ed’s other teachers had all been much more understanding, so by the end of the day he had mostly shrugged off the encounter. He wandered down to Roy’s classroom as the school emptied and threw himself in the bean bag behind his father’s desk. Roy looked up from his work. “How was school?”

Ed thought for a moment about bringing up the issue with his last name, but Roy’s eyebrows were slightly pinched, an expression he only made when he had a headache, so he decided against complaining, “Pretty good, except my English teacher already gave us homework. Oh and I got a couple syllabi you need to sign.”

Just then Al walked in, looking to be far cheerier than the other two. He apparently had a great day, having met up with a couple neighborhood boys he met over the summer who were also members of the soccer team. When he mentioned he was thinking of trying out, Roy told Ed he should also think about joining an after school group so they could all go home together. Ed had made a flippant reply about only being good as chemistry and figured that was that. When Al had officially made the soccer team a few days later, Riza had suggested that Roy sponsor a chemistry club. To Ed’s everlasting surprise, Roy agreed.

“Why can’t you believe I would agree to forming a club?”

Ed shrugged. “Aren’t you worried about ruining your reputation as a bastard?”

Ignoring Riza’s protest (“Ed! Language!”), Roy just gave a slight chuckle. “Pretty sure that happened the day I took you in.”

So Ed and Roy had printed up a chemistry club flyer and half a dozen students showed up twice a week to perform various experiments, pleased to discover Dr. Mustang was significantly more entertaining outside of class – something many students had trouble believing.

In English, Ed continued to have weekly quizzes and continued to turn them in with _Edward Mustang_ scrawled across the top. Kimblee continued to call him “Elric” at every opportunity, something which Ed tried to ignore.

Things finally came to a head at the midterm point in late October. Roy had parent teacher conferences and would need to stay into the evening, so Riza came to pick up Ed and Al. They met at the door after school and were walking across the lawn towards Riza’s car when a voice called out, “Hey, Mustang!”

Both boys turned around – the call had been for Al, and he waved Ed off before he jogged over towards the members of the soccer team. They chatted for a moment before Al jogged back over towards the car. “Hello Alphonse, Edward.” Riza greeted.

Al smiled at her warmly. Ed made an odd grunting sound in response and sank into the back seat. “Hello Mom, thank you so much for leaving work early to come pick us up.” Riza said a high-picked mocking voice that made Ed frown and Al smile widely. “Oh no problem, anything for you boys.” She answered herself in her normal voice.

“Thanks Mom – hey the soccer team is getting personalized jackets. It’s 40 dollars plus 3 dollars a letter so, e-l-r-i-c-hyphen-m-u-s-t-a-n-g” he counted off on his fingers, “so that’s 79 dollars for me. I was thinking about maybe seeing if I could make some money raking leaves if you and Dad would maybe help out a little.”

She thought for a moment. “Seems reasonable to me. We will have to discuss it with Roy but I think we can probably split the cost.”

Ed’s frown deepened. When they pulled into the driveway, he jumped out of the car, stomped down the hall to the boy’s shared room, then slammed and locked the door. He stayed in his room all afternoon, opening the door only once to throw out a book Al had asked for. Roy came home around eight, later than expected and clearly not in the best of moods himself.

Riza called everyone together for dinner. Ed was met with a frown as he sat at the table. Roy took a few bites of food and chewed slowly. “So Ed,” he sipped from his glass, “Would you like to explain to me why you have a zero in English?”

Everyone else at the table froze as Roy slowly took another bite. There was a long pause from Ed as he considered his answer, during which Riza and Al both looked between the two. “I don’t have a fucking zero.”

Now it was Roy who paused, fork halfway to his mouth. Riza and Al both stiffened. “You want to try that again, son?”

A beat passed in silence as Ed put this own fork back on the table. His eyes narrowed. “I said, I don’t have a fucking zero.”

Years of practice dealing with teenagers and dozens of hours of training as a foster parent went out the window as Roy, exhausted, grumpy and nursing a pain behind his eyes, exploded in anger. “Don’t talk to me that way kid. I met with your teacher today and you haven’t even been bothered to turn in one single assignment all year. So, Edward, I guess all the money and effort we’ve put into trying to give you a future mean ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!” Roy slammed his hands into the table and stood up, breathing heavy.

Neither Ed nor Al could ever remember Roy yelling before. Even Riza was slightly shocked at the outburst. Al was the first one to respond, though he directed his question to Ed, “I know you’ve been doing your work, brother, why wouldn’t you turn it in? Dad’s right, I thought you wanted to go to college.”

Emotion welled up inside Ed. “Just stay the hell out of this Al!” He took a deep breath and continued yelling. “It’s so easy for you – _you _get to be ‘Mustang.’ _You _get to be his son. I’m just the loser kid he took pity on because I didn’t have a home. So you just shut your mouth!”

All the outrage died in Roy’s eyes. “What? Ed, what do you mean?” Al’s mouth was slightly open. Riza, now also standing, wore a frown. All three were staring at Ed when, adrenaline pumping, he fled from the room. “_Ed!”_

Riza whispered something in Al’s ear and he got up from the table and shrugged on his jacket. Riza fixed heated eyes on Roy, who now looked defeated. “What do I do?” He asked in a soft voice.

Riza’s sent him a small smile. “He’s your son, Roy. Talk to him.” Al came back in the kitchen, now leading Black Hayate on his leash. Riza gave him a quick side hug and they went out the door together, dinner forgotten on the table.

Roy walked slowly to Ed’s door. He knocked softly. There was no reply. He tried again. “Ed, it’s me, please let me in.” Still no answer. “Your mother and Al are gone, it’s just us. Ed I’m… I’m sorry.” Roy rested his head against the door. Now that his anger had disappeared he was starting to feel overwhelmed with regret, hardly believing he had yelled at the boy.

He heard the lock click and the door opened a crack. He pushed it open and was met with Ed’s teary face. Roy spread his arms in invitation. Ed hesitantly leaned towards him, putting his forehead to Roy’s chest. “Ed, what did you mean when you said that only Al got to be my son?”

A sound halfway between a laugh and a sob escaped from Ed. Roy pulled him into an embrace. Ed began to cry in earnest and Roy lowered them to the floor. After a few minutes the sobs lessened, and Ed started pouring out words; Roy listened carefully to catch everything. Ed told him about the locker slip, about Kimblee making him sit where he had to shuffle between desks. He told Roy about the way that all of Al’s friends from the soccer team called Al “Mustang,” but Ed “Elric.” He told Roy how Kimblee mocked him, saying he was too dim to know his own last name, and how he had turned in all his work under Mustang instead of Elric. He cried into Roy’s shoulder as he spoke, finishing with, “And I don’t even know why it bothers me. It’s really no big deal and I’m so stupid.”

Roy was horrified. He had promised to himself that he would protect these boys, yet Ed had been harassed right under his nose, and worse, Roy had accused him blindly. He couldn’t find any words to say that would make anything better, instead he rose his hand to Ed’s head and started playing with his hair as Ed finished speaking. Silence filled the room as Roy searched for words.

“Roy.” The name made Roy flinch as if startled – it sounded wrong somehow, coming from the mouth of his son. “Dad,” at that he sagged in relief, “if you ever have a son, would you give him that name? Roy – like your father gave you his?”

Roy weighed his answer for a moment. He knew that whatever he said would be important to Ed. “No. See, I didn’t get the chance. I already have an oldest son. And I didn’t get to pass my name on to him because he already came with a name of his own.”

“If you had the chance, would you have?”

This time Roy answered right away, hoping he knew what Ed wanted to hear. “Yes.” Ed’s arms tightened around him. Roy’s answer had been correct.

* * *

The next day Ed and Al had been allowed to stay home from school with Riza. Roy had skipped work and showed up at the district office raising hell. Ed was removed from Kimblee’s class, and things at school settled down. Under Roy’s supervision, Ed had grown the chemistry club to include nearly twenty students and had unanimously been elected by them as the first club president. At Riza’s urging, Ed wrote about his experience and between the essay and his much-improved second attempt at the ACT, he managed to win a small scholarship to community college.

Ed had always feared graduation. For years, his graduation loomed as the point at which he would be thrown out of the foster care system to start his fight to get Al back. Now, as graduation actually approached, he found himself happy instead of afraid. Roy and Riza assured him he was welcome at their home as long as he wanted – neither would admit it, but they had both teared up when they discussed helping him move into his own apartment, and both had been relieved when he admitted he wanted to stay together as family a little longer. Roy agreed to allow him to work a part time job to help with college expenses, but he put a limit on the number of hours Ed would be allowed to work. Ed had complained until Roy pulled a trump card – “No son of mine is going to work away his college years, you need to have some time for fun.” The words had warmed Ed so deeply he gave up fighting.

In March they had petitioned the court system to adjust Ed’s name. In April, Roy’s car had been outfitted with a few modifications required by the DMV and Ed had finally been granted a driver’s license. In May Al had received his own. All three events had led to a family celebration, and Riza had joked that if they kept going out to eat for good food that neither boy would appreciate her cooking anymore. Even though she had been joking, Ed had asked her to cook a celebratory meal at home for his graduation.

When the day finally came in early June, Ed took his place on the stage with the rest of his class. Roy, as the only teacher with a student in the graduating class that year, had been recruited to hand each student their diploma and shake their hand. Ed’s turn came about halfway through. The assistant principal shook his prosthetic right hand and moved his tassel from the right side of his hat to the left, then Ed took a step forward. Roy gripped his left hand for a moment, hesitated visibly, then pulled him into a hug. The principal, reading out the names, paused to give them the moment. “I’m so proud of you,” Roy murmured into Ed’s ear before pulling back. Roy handed him his diploma and Ed finished his walk across the stage towards the first half of his class. He remembered fighting with Al last summer, determined to keep his name as Edward Elric and not change a thing. As far as he was concerned, those ten months were a lifetime ago. There was power in his name. Edward Elric was the name given to him by mother, but the name on his diploma was not merely given to him. No – it was _passed down_ to him from his father – a name he might one day pass to a son. As the next student’s name was called, Ed looked down at his diploma. There, in elegant script, was his name.

**Edward Roy Elric-Mustang**

**Author's Note:**

> Ten years later, few of Roy’s colleagues remembered his sons and he was back to being mean old Mustang. So just imagine their surprise when, after school one day, a little toddler with platinum blond hair had come running into the teachers lounge screaming “GRANDPA ROOOOOOY!”


End file.
